Because of You
by Twila Reaux
Summary: Because of him she understands emotions and because of her he knows joy. Alice and Jasper, one-shot.


**Hey! Just another one-shot featuring some fluffy time with Alice and Jasper. **

**MASSIVE THANKS to Struck Upon a Star for her reviews and input. This one's dedicated to her. If you haven't read her stories, you are seriously depriving yourself. She's under my favorite authors, so please check out her stuff. **

**As always, it'd be great if you let me know what you think. Enjoy!**

I live for moments like these: the rare moments when I lie at peace in my love's arms, listening lazily to the sounds of our family throughout the house. It's been nearly three years since Jasper and I found the Cullens, and even though this is a relatively new chapter in our story, I can't imagine our existences any other way.

I steal a glance at the man reading beside me. My husband, my soldier, my friend. _My_ Jasper. Even now, I can't believe my good fortune. I had seen us together but always, like a parasite, a niggling fear gnawed at my mind and heart. What if he didn't want me? No one else had…

But he did. I turn from my position on my back into him, curling an arm across his chest. I slide beneath his strong arms holding the book before him and rest my head in my favorite place in the world: the crook of his neck. Breathing deeply, I let my lids slide needlessly shut as his feelings became my own—contentedness, peace, love.

At first, it had startled me when he projected his own emotions. Although, I'd been alone for so long that there were many foreign tendencies that came with sharing space. For example, his smell. It certainly wasn't a bad smell; it's indescribable. Something like earth, clean, comfort and protection. To have the intoxicating fragrance around me constantly was, though not unwelcomed, strange.

Then there was hearing my name. Others had said it before, but only in passing.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alice."

"Excuse me? Alice, was it?"

Eventually, I refrained from introducing myself. There was no point. The only person I ever really wanted to know was Jasper. Besides, the lack of surname proved to be problematic and unnerving for the humans, and embarrassing for me.

But when Jasper said my name, it was different. He knew me, and he _cared_.

The strangest and most wonderful part of it all was the sharing of his gift. At first, he was so guarded. But it was okay—I knew the going would be slow with him. I'd seen that much. But I was willing to wait. What are mere days and weeks when you've waited for twenty-eight years? Time slips between your fingers when you hold eternity in your hand.

After almost three weeks, he started letting down his walls; after he'd told me everything and was certain I'd stay anyway. It started then the same way it had today. I was reading on the bed and suddenly, like a shiver rides the cold waves of a human's blood, warmth spread throughout me. With the warmth came an unquestionable feeling of peace. I closed my eyes and sighed, soaking in the sensation that nothing would ever go wrong again.

"You felt that?" he asked from his position at the desk across the room, obviously having heard my contented exhale.

"Yes."

"I apologize." And in an instant, it was gone. My distraction and anxiety over finding the family returned as the delicious warmth was drained from my body. He looked down sheepishly. Placing my book on the bed, I strode over to him.

"Don't stop," I quietly pleaded. He looked up smiling and immediately, the tranquility returned with a punch of undeniable happiness. I laughed lightly, simply from the joy I felt. "You're feeling _this_?" I asked incredulously. He was always so somber, so stoic. It was hard to imagine elation like that coming from Jasper.

"Because of you," he said shyly.

I tried to squelch the lust I felt kindling within me. We hadn't progressed in our physical relationship beyond holding hands. So I took his in mine, the feelings of calm and gladness intensifying, and contented myself with reading at his feet for the rest of the night.

"You feel awful happy tonight," his Southern drawl bringing me back to the present.

"It's nice to have memories. Good ones," I tell him. He grins understandingly. Since that night, his emotions have always been a part of my own and vice-versa. He's careful not to project around the family, but when it's just us, he can relax. Some might find it burdensome, sharing your feelings with someone else. For me, it's strange in his absence. Sensing his emotions is now as natural to me as breathing is for humans; I wouldn't have it any other way.

Idly, I trace the half-moons that dust his collarbone as he reads. Suddenly, I feel a stab of fear, then anger. And I know it's not mine.

"What is it?" I ask, propping myself up. His once relaxed muscles have tensed in frustration.

"Esme," he says, shaking his head. Why would he be upset with Esme? I don't need to voice my inquiry before he answers with a sigh. "It's…" he sets his jaw, a habit I know means he's searching for propriety.

"You don't have to tell me," I let him know. He doesn't; he, Edward and I have an unwritten code. If we see, hear or feel something we don't think should be divulged, it remains unspoken. No questions asked.

"No, it's just…sometimes when they're being," he pauses here, "intimate, it's difficult." More unspoken questions surface in my mind, but I know he'll answer them. "If Carlisle moves too quickly or rashly, she still feels fear." Realization floods me.

Even now, after thirty-two years together, her human memories still have influence. Even if her heart and mind know better, her body still remembers the terror that comes with sudden advances.

Edward told me once that it was almost painful to watch at first. She lived with them for almost a year before she let Carlisle get too close.

"_She never doubted his love, and she truly did trust him," Edward said. "But that old fear never really dissipated." _

I sighed. Poor Esme. My sadness was quickly mingled with pangs of Jasper's anger.

"If that…bastard had any idea," he started, fists clenching. "If he's still alive, I'd love nothing more than to hunt him down, tear out his throat and drink him dry for what he did to her." His voice trembled with rage and for a moment, I saw Jasper as the soldier, the killer, that he was once trained to be.

"Jasper," I admonished softly.

"No one deserves that. Rose didn't deserve it and Esme certainly doesn't either." I stroked his arm gently, proud that he would defend his adoptive family in such a way.

Living with an empath has taught me volumes about emotion. For example, you can never sufficiently describe an emotion with words. No matter how well-versed an individual may be, nothing can convey what it is to truly feel something. Like jealousy. You can use every flowery word in the dictionary, and still never properly express what it's like to have that feeling tearing through you.

I've also learned that dealing with emotions is about dealing with balances: peace cancels out panic, acceptance cancels out dejection, and sometimes forgiveness (or at least understanding) cancels out anger. I try to focus on those two.

"Like you," I begin quietly, "her past shaped her. But it doesn't define her." His eyes met mine. "Her present is wonderful, and her future is too. She has Carlisle now, and he loves her. Wholly, completely. You of all people should know that." He cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes ever so slightly, like he was listening. But I knew he was feeling more than hearing. It's the look he gets when he's scanning emotions.

I, however, did listen. I heard lilting notes from Edward's piano, Rose laughing at Emmett's joking, the wind whispering past the corners of the house in the dusk outside. And from Carlisle and Esme's room I heard the soft, comforting murmurs of my father as he gently expressed his love. I quit listening then, not wanting to intrude.

Jasper's channel of emotions into my own told me he'd felt the same thing. Lust, love and comfort flowed in a strange conduit from my adoptive parents, to Jasper, to me.

"It must be hard for him," Jasper says quietly, the edge now gone from his voice.

_What do you mean?_ I ask him silently.

"Sometimes he wants her…so badly."

"As all men are wont to do with the women they love," I add with a slight smile, resuming my former position against his chest. I can feel him smile as his hands absentmindedly play with my short hair.

"The amount of control he has, in everything, is unbelievable."

"It will get easier for her." I don't need a vision to know that. "Time heals all wounds," I say as I press a kiss to a scar on his shoulder. And we have all the time in the world. He sighs, and the last of the anger, vengeance and pity leaves both his climate and mine.

I sit up and gently position myself so I'm straddling his lap, glorying in one of the rare moments when _I_ can look down at _him_. Smiling, I tell him I love him with my feelings and place a soft kiss on his lips. His hand, still in my hair, runs slowly down to the back of my neck and pulls me in deeper.

If I thought the emotion channeling was intense before, it is nothing compared to the euphoric explosion of kissing him. Reluctantly, I pull away.

"You have quite a bit of control yourself,"I say, half teasing half complimenting him.

"How's that?" The corners of his lips pull into a smile that would make my dead heart start again.

"You're always afraid to come on too strongly. Like you could hurt me," I say teasingly, and kiss the corners of his lips.

"But you're so small," he says in weak defense.

"But I'm strong." With that I recapture his lips with my own, reveling in the sensation of our emotions rushing between us.

"Is that so?" he asks mischievously. My eyes widen in anticipation as his hands reach up to my sides, tickling me. My laughter bursts out in fits of silly giggles as his fingers work against my sides, his laughter meshing with mine. He quickly flips us so I'm doubled up on my back, continuing to make me laugh hysterically.

"Stop! Stop it, Jazz!" I choke out between giggles. He chuckles too as he buries his head in my neck and kisses softly. Slowly the laughter subsides, but the smile remains as he kisses me delicately. He pulls back slowly, his eyes fixing on mine.

"I would never hurt you, Alice."

"I know, Jazz." The petals of his lips are soon against mine again. The perfect moment is ruined with a spark of disbelief that runs through us both. I raise my eyebrow inquisitively at him.

"It's Edward. Apparently, he doesn't think I'm the tickling type." I have to laugh again. Who would have thought that Jasper, the serious one, might ever start a tickle war? In his way, he answers my unasked question.

"Because of you," he replies, his eyes filling my heart with his love. Our lips meet again, and don't part again until morning.


End file.
